The Fixer by Bernard Malamud Page A

thing as you describe it, true freedom, would you say, or cannot one be free without being politically free?”
    Here’s where I’d better watch my step, the fixer thought. Politics is politics. No use fanning up hot coals when you have to walk across them.
    â€œI wouldn’t know for sure, your honor. It’s partly one and partly the other.”
    â€œTrue enough. One might say there is more than one conception of freedom in Spinoza’s mind—in Necessity,
philosophically speaking; and practically, in the state, that is to say within the realm of politics and political action. Spinoza conceded a certain freedom of political choice, similar to the freedom of electing to think, if it were possible to make these choices. At least it is possible to think them. He perhaps felt that the purpose of the state—the government—was the security and comparative freedom of rational man. This was to permit man to think as best he could. He also thought man was freer when he participated in the life of society than when he lived in solitude as he himself did. He thought that a free man in society had a positive interest in promoting the happiness and intellectual emancipation of his neighbors.”
    â€œI guess that’s true, your honor, if you say so,” said Yakov, “but as far as I myself am concerned what you said is something to think about, though if you’re poor your time is taken up with other things that I don’t have to mention. You let those who can, worry about the ins and outs of politics.”
    â€œAh,” Bibikov sighed. He puffed on his cigarette without speaking. For a moment there was no sound in the cell.
    Did I say something wrong? Yakov thought wildly. There are times it doesn’t pay to open your mouth.
    When the magistrate spoke again he sounded once more like an investigating official, his tone dry, objective.
    â€œHave you ever heard the expression ‘historical necessity’?”
    â€œNot that I remember. I don’t think so though maybe I could guess what it means.”
    â€œAre you sure? You’ve not read Hegel?”
    â€œI don’t know his name.”
    â€œOr Karl Marx? He too was a Jew, though not exactly happy to be one.”

    â€œNot him either.”
    â€œWould you say you have a ‘philosophy’ of your own? If so what is it?”
    â€œIf I have it’s all skin and bones. I’ve only just come to a little reading, your honor,” he apologized. “If I have any philosophy, if you don’t mind me saying so, it’s that life could be better than it is.”
    â€œYet how can it be made better if not in politics or through it?”
    That’s a sure trap, Yakov thought. “Maybe by more jobs and work,” he faltered. “Not to forget good will among men. We all have to be reasonable or what’s bad gets worse.”
    â€œWell, that’s at least a beginning,” the magistrate said quietly. “You must read and reflect further.”
    â€œI will just as soon as I get out of here.”
    Bibikov seemed embarrassed. The fixer felt as though he had disappointed him, although he was not sure why. Probably too much inexact talk. It’s hard to make sense when you’re in trouble, considering also your other natural disadvantages.
    The magistrate after a while absently asked, “How did you bruise your head?”
    â€œIn the dark, in desperation.”
    Bibikov reached into his pocket and offered the fixer his cigarette box. “Have one, they’re Turkish.”
    Yakov smoked in order not to affront the man, though he could not taste the cigarette.
    Taking a folded paper and pencil stub out of his suit coat pocket the magistrate placed them on the table, saying, “I leave this questionnaire with you. We will have to know more biographical details since you have no police record. When you have answered each question and signed your name, call the